


Nothing Like the Prequel

by finkpishnets



Series: Nothing Like The Prequel [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he’s being honest with himself (and in no way has to say the words aloud), Simon gets the appeal. Mundane High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like the Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> So, the stupid thing is, this isn’t even one of my ships, not really, but there were moments in _City of Fallen Angels_ that got me thinking and somehow, along the way, this happened. For the au_bingo wild card prompt: “students”.

If he’s being honest with himself (and in no way has to say the words aloud), Simon gets the appeal; Jace is kind of obscenely good-looking and popular in a way no one has a right to be, but he’s also the most arrogant jerk to ever grace the halls of the Institute, so it’s Simon’s duty as Best Friend to disapprove of Clary’s crush.

“Look,” she says at lunch, “you don’t even know him. Maybe if you guys talked-”

“That would involve him acknowledging my existence,” Simon points out, “which is fairly unlikely.”

“Please?” Clary says in that irritatingly persuasive voice that only girls seem to possess. “My severe lack of friends without a Y chromosome means I need you to step up and be my wing woman.”

Simon frowns. “Do we need to have the talk about how I possess a penis again?”

Clary sighs. “I try not to think about it.”

“Thanks,” Simon says. “Really, you make me feel so good about myself.”

“I’ll go with you to see Hybrid Moles play next weekend,” Clary says rolling her eyes, and Simon grins.

“Deal,” he tells her. “But you have to wear the _Great Moles Think Alike_ t-shirt I bought you last Christmas.”

He totally knows Clary well enough to move his leg before she kicks him.

 

+

 

The thing is, Simon doesn’t _want_ to talk to Jace, and not only because the chances of him saying something stupid enough to earn a punch in the face are so high, but mostly because he’s pretty sure Jace hates him; to be fair, with the exception of Alec and Isabelle, Jace seems to hate everyone, though, and Clary _asked_.

“Hi,” he says, attempting his best _I totally don’t want to be absolutely anywhere else but here right now, really_ smile.

Jace arches an eyebrow and looks at him in disdain.

“So, you, uh, know Clary, right?” he says, and then wonders if the ground will pretty please open up and swallow him whole.

“Yes,” Jace says, so much sarcasm dripping from the word that Simon’s surprised it’s not visable. “Sorry, did you have a point here? Only, I’m fairly certain I’d rather eat live slugs than continue this conversation.”

“Clary’s wrong, you really are just a jackass,” Simon says.

He walks away before Jace can recover from his temporary shock.

 

+

 

“You called me a jackass,” Jace says, cornering Simon by the bike racks. Simon’s not entirely sure how Jace even knows where the bike racks _are_ considering he’s never come to school in anything but a top of the range sports car paid for by a ridiculous trust fund.

“Yes,” Simon says, even though Jace can probably beat him to a pulp with one arm.

Jace doesn’t say anything for a long moment, staring Simon down, and Simon wonders if he’s deciding which would be the most bloody and painful way to kill him.

“It’s going to rain,” he says eventually, and Simon frowns.

“Okay?”

Jace lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll drive you home.”

He turns around and starts walking towards the student parking lot.

Simon blinks.

 

+

 

Simon’s running late the next morning, a History essay he’d forgotten about clutched between his fingers and a slice of toast he hadn’t even had time to butter between his teeth. He’s trying to work out how to ride to school without the use of his hands when he looks up and finds Jace lounging against his obscenely shiny sports car watching him, amusement etched across his face.

“Want a ride?” he says, and Simon blinks and then shrugs because, _hey_ , he may as well make the most of this weird life turn, and besides, it looks like rain again.

 

+

 

Simon’s not entirely sure how he ended up standing around Jace’s living room except apparently they _hang out_ now. Which, yeah.

“No one’s in,” Jace says as if that’ll calm Simon down. “Maryse isn’t really talking to me so she won’t be back for hours.”

“Maryse?”

“Lightwood,” Jace says. “Alec and Isabelle’s mom. She and Robert are my legal guardians.”

“Right,” Simon says, nodding his head like this isn’t all _brand new information_. He thinks he remembers hearing somewhere that Jace was adopted but he’s fairly sure he overheard it from cheerleaders with more hairspray than sense, and besides, he hadn’t really cared back then.

“My dad’s a bastard,” Jace says, not looking anywhere near Simon’s general vicinity. He rolls his eyes. “We’re not supposed to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Simon says. “Uh, sorry?”

Jace snorts. “You’re really shit at this sort of thing, aren’t you?”

“In my defense, I’ve never watched enough _Lifetime_ movies to prepare.”

Jace doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and when he does it’s accompanied with a game controller to Simon’s stomach. “Want to beat the crap out of stuff for a while?”

“Fuck yes,” Simon says in relief, dropping down on the couch and not thinking about how he’s pretty sure they just had a _moment_.

 

+

 

When Jace had cornered him in the hallway before fifth period and asked if he wanted to hang out after school, Simon had assumed that they would be playing video games again.

Simon is an _idiot_.

“So,” Mr Lightwood says, accepting the potatoes from his son, “Simon. You’re in the same grade as Jace and Alec, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Simon says, and then grabs his water, gulping it down to try and clear his throat.

It’s the most awkward meal Simon has ever sat through; Mrs Lightwood isn’t saying much of anything except to offer more vegetables at random intervals, Alec is glaring at him from across the table with such ferocity that he’s amazed he hasn’t been turned to dust, and Simon’s pretty sure it’s Isabelle’s foot that keeps slipping up his jeans. Which, um, yeah.

“We have Phys Ed. together,” Jace says, and Simon blinks because, uh, no, they don’t. Simon had worked very hard at the beginning of the year to get out of doing Phys Ed. altogether. He’s fairly sure the guidance councilor still hasn’t noticed.

Mr Lightwood perks up though, nodding his head. “Fantastic,” he says. “Physical Education is very underrated. Staying fit is important.”

Jace kicks his ankle and Simon nods. “Oh yeah,” he says. “It’s, uh, important to push yourself.”

Mr Lightwood smiles like that’s the right answer, and Simon silently vows to kick Jace somewhere a lot more painful than the ankle as soon as this stupid dinner’s over.

Isabelle starts talking about the self-defense class she’s taking, and Simon’s able to duck his head and focus on his food for a minute, wishing to hell that the ground will just open up and swallow him whole.

He has about thirty seconds to feel relieved at the knock at the door as Mr Lightwood gets up to answer it, and then he sees the look on Jace’s face. He didn’t know _anyone_ could turn that pale that fast.

After that, everything goes to hell.

Simon thinks he sees the couch burst in to flames but everything’s a blur of bodies and shouts and he can’t be sure, not until he sees the newcomer holding a knife to Jace’s throat and calling him “son” all in the same breath, and he doesn’t think twice before picking up what is probably a very expensive vase and throwing it at the dude’s head. A second later he’s being tackled by a thug with a face that looks like it’s seen both sides of a battering ram, but he hears the sound of bone connecting with bone and he just hopes the rumors of Jace’s skills in a boxing ring aren’t exaggerated.

Jace’s dad shouts something about “destiny” and his “rightful position of power” and Simon wonders if he just raided the action section of his local Blockbusters before coming here or if he really is that batshit crazy. All signs point to the latter.

Actually, this whole thing is doing wonders at making Jace seem like a pretty well adjusted human being, so, hey, silver lining!

The Lightwood’s are giving as good as they get, and Simon’s starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on Phys Ed after all, especially when Isabelle delivers a perfect round-kick. If she weren’t totally terrifying he probably would have fallen in love with her right then.

Simon’s never been in a fight in his _life_ , and this seems unfairly like being thrown in at the deep end with a fifty ton ball of steel tied to your ankle. Still, at least he’s somewhat holding his own and not hiding under the table like he really wants to be. Except then he falls out of a window, and, well, he doesn’t remember much after that.

 

+

 

Simon’s head is pounding when he opens his eyes, the sound of sirens piercing the night, and it takes him a few moments to realize that Jace is kneeling in front of him, watching him through narrowed eyes as he unwraps a roll of bandages.

“So, when you said _bastard_ ,” Simon says, cringing as he tries to maneuver himself upright, “what you really meant was megalomaniacal psychopath.”

“Well, yes,” Jace says, barely wincing as he applies pressure to a particularly nasty looking cut on his arm. “But bastard’s much less of a mouthful.”

Inside, the Lightwood’s are moving around with purpose, as if this sort of thing happens every day and they know exactly how to handle it, and Simon would be impressed except he’s pretty sure he’s about to throw up and, seriously, _this_ is what happens when you accidentally end up hanging out with Jace fucking Wayland.

Jace is still staring at him, and, okay, so Simon hadn’t expected to fall out a _window_ today, but he’s also not a total wimp, so he just rolls his eyes and tries not to grimace as he stands up.

“Hey,” he says when he’s finally sure his legs are going to hold out. “Didn’t Maryse say something about dessert?”

Jace’s laugh sounds desperate around the edges, but it’s something.

 

+

 

His mom asks him how his evening was when he finally gets home, not even reprimanding him for missing curfew, and there’s a brief moment when he actually considers telling her everything.

 _Jace’s dad is a psychopath and he almost killed everyone at dinner. I had to have five stitches in my side. I’m reasonably sure the Lightwood’s fight crime under the cover of night. I don’t even really_ like _these people so I have no idea why all I want to do right now is text Jace and make sure he’s not actually drowning under the weight of his own narcissistic guilt._

“It was really nice,” he says instead. “We had trifle.”

“That’s good, dear,” she says, ruffling his hair. “Remember to brush your teeth before you go to bed.”

 _Next time we play Call of Duty_ , he texts Jace, _you’d better let me win._

 _Bite me_ , Jace texts back immediately, and Simon almost feels normal.

 

+

 

“You could have just _said_ ,” Clary says, punching him in the arm, and Simon has no idea what she’s talking about but at least she doesn’t look too upset; Monday morning’s are not the time for dealing with tears.

“Said what?”

Clary rolls her eyes and mutters something that might be boys under her breath. “That you liked Jace too. I totally would have backed off.”

There’s a brief moment where Simon actually thinks he’s stuck in a nightmare.

“Sorry,” he says, voice strained and embarrassingly high, “what?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Clary says, sliding some books into her locker and apparently not noticing _Simon’s whole worldview being shattered_. “I mean, I’m a little hurt you didn’t call me after your dates to spill everything but I’m trying to do as you ask and remember you’re a guy, so.”

“Right,” he says, wondering detachedly if it’s normal to lose control of your legs in times of intense shock. He should probably start listening in science class more.

“I expect a full update sometime,” Clary says, “but I shall absolutely give you your space. At least until the question of just how good his body is under his shirt becomes too burning to ignore.” She grins and looks at him seriously for a moment. “Honestly,” she says, “I’m happy for you.”

Simon wonders if this is what the end of the world feels like.

 

+

 

“Clary just told me she thinks it’s sweet we’re _dating_ ,” Simon says, sliding onto the hood of Jace’s car, completely ignoring his look of annoyance.

“That’s the first thing you come out with?” Jace says. “Not: _So hey, I’m pretty sure your crazy dad tried to kill us yesterday. That actually happened, right?_ ”

Simon waves a distracted hand. “I _know_ that happened. I have the scars to prove it. This is much more pressing.”

Jace shrugs, looking guilty for a moment before schooling his features back into serene indifference, and Simon wonders just how much of yesterday’s events he blames himself for. Probably all of them, knowing him.

“It’s hardly a big deal,” he says, and Simon scoffs.

“Please,” he says, “it’s an _immensely_ big deal. She said it was _sweet!_ This is not something to be taken lightly.”

Jace cringes. “Yeah, okay, _sweet’s_ taking things too far.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Simon says, relieved not to be the only sane one.

“I mean,” Jace continues, “any relationship involving you will have certain dorky labels attached to it, but my charm and good looks at least ups it to _hot_.”

“Exactly!” Simon says before Jace’s words actually sink in. “Hang on. What?”

“Anyway, surely it’s a good thing your best friend approves, right? I mean, I don’t actually _care_ , but Isabelle tells me it’s the norm in these situations.”

Jace opens the car door and throws his satchel carelessly into the back, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Coming?”

Simon blinks. “What the hell did I _miss?_ ”

 

+

 

“I’m dating Jace,” Simon says frantically as soon as Clary picks up, eyes fixed firmly on his closed bedroom door, willing his mom not to walk by.

“Did you just phone to rub that in?” Clary asks, amused.

“No,” he says, “I mean, _I’m dating Jace and I didn’t know I was!_ ”

There’s a pause and then the faint sound of sheets rustling as Clary sits up.

“Hang on,” she says, “say that again.”

“I didn’t know I was dating Jace and then you said you thought it was sweet and he said he thought it was actually more ‘hot’ and apparently everyone knew but _no one thought to tell me._ ”

“Oh my God,” Clary says. “You are such an idiot.”

Simon takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the way his heart’s racing at three times its usual rate.

“Well yes,” he says, “I know that _now_.”

“You guys hang out all the time,” she says incredulously. “You had dinner with his family.”

“I almost got _killed_ by his family,” Simon mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says because there’s no need to go into that now, and, okay, so he may be sporting some major bruises under his t-shirt and he has an appointment at the surgery to get his stitches taken out two weeks from now, but that still doesn’t make it his secret to tell. “Look, those are all things _friends_ do.”

“Simon,” Clary says, “I’ve seen the way you look at him and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. There’s nothing _friendly_ about it. Actually, I’m mostly just worried Jace is going to rip your clothes off where you stand, and that’s the kind of thing that could get awkward.”

“Shit,” Simon says. “ _Shit_.”

 

+

 

The thing is, now it’s actually starting to sink in, Simon’s not sure whether he’s supposed to be monumentally freaked out or actually kind of happy about it; admittedly, he’s never given the subject much thought before, but Jace is hotter than pretty much _anyone ever_ , and he also apparently isn’t completely opposed to the idea of putting his hand down Simon’s pants. At least, Simon assumes he isn’t. He’s fairly sure that’s the sort of thing listed under Appropriate Boyfriend-y Actions.

More than that, though, Simon thinks he probably knows Jace better than ninety-nine percent of the people in his life – the Lightwood’s being the only exception – and that’s kind of a scary responsibility, especially when Jace is so closely guarded.

Simon’s never thought about whether he’s gay or not, but then he’s never thought about whether he’s straight either, and really, now he _is_ thinking about it he doesn’t see why they can’t both be true. He’s seventeen and the only date he’s ever been on was with a girl from his Math class, and that had ended in him calling Clary for help from the bathroom like a twelve year old girl, so it’s not like he’s an expert in _any_ of this.

Sometimes he really hates being a teenager.

 

+

 

The cheerleaders are whispering behind their hands and shooting looks at him across the hallway, and it’s roughly ten times scarier than any horror movie he’s ever seen. They shouldn’t even know who he _is_ – he’s managed to go three years without ever catching their attention, thank goodness – so it doesn’t take Simon long to realize who’s to blame.

“This is all your fault,” he tells Jace, totally not noticing the way the other boy’s jeans slide down his hips when he slouches against the lockers like that. Which, actually, is probably the _whole problem_. “Since when did you talk to me in public?”

Jace shoots him an annoyed look. “Worried about your social standing?”

“Oh, don’t get pissy,” Simon says. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Jace says, shrugging. “Pretty girls terrify you. I get it. Max frequently feels the same way.”

Simon resists the urge to punch Jace in the head. “You are such a dick.”

The bell rings, and Simon’s so caught up trying to think of something suitably scathing in lieu of a goodbye that he doesn’t notice Jace leaning in until it’s too late. He’s not entirely sure what he’d thought kissing a boy would be like, and, really, he wishes this had happened when he wasn’t so very conscious of everyone ever staring at them so he could take proper notes (oh God, what the hell does Jace see in him?) but despite all that, it’s not _bad_.

Very, very not bad.

At least until Jace pulls back, offers him one last infuriating smirk, and then leaves him alone to be stared at by the entire student body, the bastard.

“Um,” Simon says, picking up his bag with shaking hands. “Right.”

He’s pretty sure he’s never moved so fast in his life.

 

+

 

Clary can’t stop staring at him. To be fair, _everyone’s_ staring at him, but Clary’s just sitting there, eyes wide and mouth open like she doesn’t recognize him, and it’s _really disconcerting_ because it’s not like any of this is actually a surprise to her.

“You knew about this before _I_ did,” he reminds her, poking at his uneaten lasagna.

“Right,” Clary says, shaking her head. “No, of course. Totally. I mean, I didn’t expect the two of you to start making out in school hallways, but…” She coughs and then finally looks normal. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Simon says. “There’s nothing I love more than being treated like an exhibit at the city zoo.”

Clary sighs, and Simon’s sort of interested to hear what comforting words she can possibly come up with for this situation when a shadow falls over their table.

Simon’s not as scared of Alec as he is of Isabelle, but it’s a close call.

“Don’t even think about ever hurting him,” Alec says, and Simon wonders if that glare is particularly designed with him in mind.

“I won’t,” he says, partly because Alec could probably kill him in his sleep, and partly because he really _won’t_. He’s not that person.

Alec doesn’t look satisfied but he looks a little less like he’s about to stab him in the eye with a plastic fork which Simon counts as a win.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard him say at one time,” Simon says when he’s gone, and Clary nods, looking thoughtful.

“He’s really quite pretty, isn’t he?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Simon says darkly.

Clary just laughs.

 

+

 

Jace is sprawled across the hood of his car when Simon finds him (and, seriously, why can’t the boy just learn to use his limbs like normal people), looking completely unfazed and also possibly asleep. Simon may actually hate him.

“Wake _up_ ,” he says, hitting his thigh, and he’s sort of sadistically hoping Jace will startle and fall to the floor. Instead he just opens one eye, reaches for Simon’s arm, and pulls him onto the hood with him, because the universe hates Simon and apparently loves his stupid, sexy boyfriend.

Or, you know, guy he’s possibly accidentally dating. Whatever.

“You really need to stop caring what people think of you,” Jace says after a while, and Simon nods because, yeah, he knows that, he really does. It’s just hard sometimes.

“Are we actually dating?” he says, and Jace grins into his shoulder, fingers moving to curl over his hip.

“Yep,” he says. “I’d apologize but it’s all your fault. And, also, I don’t do apologies.”

“No kidding,” Simon says, and then: “and what do you mean it’s my fault?”

“You called me a jackass,” Jace says, like that makes any sense, and Simon waits but apparently that’s the only explanation he’s going to get.

“So, what, you like it when people insult you?”

“No,” Jace says, sounding amused. “I like it when _you_ insult me. Believe me, I was more surprised than anyone.”

Simon laughs. “Okay,” he says. “Fair enough. As long as that’s a free pass to call you a bastard and not get punched in the face.”

“As long as you never make me come see your ridiculous band perform, I think we’re even.”

Simon’s about to protest that his band is _not_ ridiculous, thank you very much, but then Jace is leaning over for the second time that day, and they’re still in public but Simon’s ready this time, and oh, he still really wants to make notes and then possibly punch _himself_ in the face.

The only other person he’s ever kissed was Amanda Harmon, and he was six at the time. They were playing kiss chase and afterwards she burst into tears and ran off to find her mom, and even as a kid that had been a substantial blow to his ego.

Jace doesn’t seem like he’s going to be running off anywhere, though, which is a relief, especially when he does that thing with his tongue, and, _crap_ , Simon’s so, so screwed.

“Later we’re going back to yours and I promise to only make fun of whatever dorky bedsheets you have a little,” Jace says against his lips and Simon can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed about the sound he makes in response.

“I knew you wanted to put your hand down my pants,” he says breathlessly, and Jace laughs, rolling off him and standing up, looking unfairly put together, his kiss-slick lips curling into a smirk.

“Who says you’re going to be wearing pants?”


End file.
